HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

"There's no escaping it!"

Quirrell backed away and approached him, while Voldemort stared intently at him, a sinister grin spreading across his wicked face.

Harry's legs were bound by ropes that appeared out of nowhere again, causing him to immediately lose his balance and fall heavily to the ground.

Voldemort's voice crawled like a venomous snake on dry bones, each word carrying a chilling intent that seeped into the very marrow: "Courage... what a captivating quality..."

His rotting face twisted on the back of Quirrell's head, "Just like your father... unyielding to the death..."

Harry felt the ropes digging deep into his flesh, but what hurt even more was the sudden tearing apart of memories—details he had never known before were being told by his enemy.

“Do you know? Your father didn’t even have a wand… What a valiant resistance…” Voldemort hissed, a morbid pleasure in his voice, “My Killing Curse blasted him from one end of the room to the other… But he stood at the bottom of the stairs until his death, trying to buy your mother time…”

Suddenly, a scene Harry had never seen before flashed before his eyes: a black-haired man wearing glasses was struck by a green light and flew through the corridor like a broken puppet.

“And your mother…” Voldemort paused, “she could have lived… I gave her a choice… but she insisted on shielding your cradle with her body…”

The snake's face twisted in agony. "What a foolish choice... Avada Kedavra!"

Harry's heart skipped a beat, but instead of a flash of green light, he saw Voldemort with a mocking smile.

Voldemort continued forward, muttering, "Ah... I should have done this eleven years ago, Potter... I did do it back then... and you've ruined me like this... Now eleven years have passed, a full eleven years... Do you think you can escape this time like before?"

Harry, panting heavily, forced down his grief. He struggled to pull the Philosopher's Stone from his pocket and threw it into the flames with all his might.

How dare you!

Voldemort's face suddenly turned ferocious. He reached out and cast a Summoning Charm on the Philosopher's Stone in the air, but the red stone was snatched away by a raven that suddenly appeared.

Chapter 45 The End

"Mr. Locketis!"

Harry exclaimed in surprise.

Quirrell exclaimed in terror, "Master, that's Greengrass's raven! He's here!"

Sure enough, as soon as the words were spoken, the raven landed on the shoulder of a figure in black robes. Upon closer inspection, two young wizards were seen following behind the figure.

Harry finally felt relieved. He looked at Sagrais and his two companions, almost bursting into tears, but he managed to hold back because Sagrais gave him a reassuring look.

“Voldemort…” Sagres muttered the name to himself, looking at the face with a half-smile. “How did you end up like this? Stealing from a child…”

He reached out and took the magic stone from the raven's beak, examining it closely in his hand.

No wonder Voldemort didn't care about Quirrell's foolish behavior; he was right under everyone's noses.

He observed all of Quirrell's actions but never intervened. The more obvious Quirrell's behavior, the safer he was; after all, who would suspect that the obviously problematic Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was Voldemort himself?

Sagres looked at the face with a complicated expression, a hint of disappointment flashing in his eyes.

……

Voldemort's expression was uncertain. He ignored the sarcasm in Sagrais's tone and remained silent for a moment before slowly speaking: "Sagrais, I know you... Your father was once my most loyal subordinate. We shouldn't have become enemies..."

The three young wizards were stunned by Voldemort's words. Professor Greengrass's father was Voldemort's henchman? Then what about him...? The three dared not think any further, but fortunately, Sargeras's next words dispelled their doubts.

“Yes, it’s not just him…” Sagras chuckled nonchalantly, “Many members of the Greengrass family have followed in your footsteps, but they’re all still in Azkaban now…”

"I know, I know, it's a sad fact..." Voldemort coaxed. "Give me the Philosopher's Stone... Once I regain my strength, rescuing them won't be difficult..."

"Rescue them?" Sagles said in surprise. "Why rescue them? Some of them were put in there by me!"

Voldemort and the young wizards were stunned, but Sagrais continued, "After all, your pure-blood ideology is a complete rubbish... You don't understand that only through constant mutation, fusion, and innovation can magical civilization avoid becoming a living fossil... Your view of magic is backward and will never be respectable..."

"Shut up, you filthy bastard!" Voldemort finally lost his temper upon hearing this. His ferocious expression made the three young wizards involuntarily take a step back. "The rule of pure-blood wizards is ordained! How could you, a bastard dog, possibly understand the power of blood?"

Sagrass, expressionless, handed the Philosopher's Stone to Hermione behind him and casually pulled out his wand. "Is that so? In that case, you shouldn't have knelt in the forest drinking unicorn blood in the first place..."

He slowly descended the steps, approaching his opponent step by step. Voldemort, however, silently retreated.

“Magic doesn’t care about your surname, something you should have learned when you were living in the forest, relying on snakes and rats for sustenance,” Sagres said calmly.

Avada Kedavra!

A chilling green light flashed towards him like lightning.

Sargeras did not dodge; he merely flicked his wand, and a pale, fiery bird flew from its tip, crashing head-on into the Killing Curse that was hurtling towards him.

In an instant, the green light vanished without a trace.

“Very good, at least you still have the courage to swing your staff at me.” He nodded to Voldemort. “Although the power is less than satisfactory, I can already see a trace of the Dark Lord.”

"Sand and stones flying everywhere!"

Voldemort continued casting his spell, but Sargeras once again waved his wand lightly, instantly dissolving the black spell.

“It’s still not enough,” he shook his head and frowned, his tone full of scrutiny. “If this is all you’ve got, you’re probably going to die today.”

"Heart-piercing and bone-scraping!"

This time, the red cursed light snaked like a snake and struck Sagrais precisely, but it still couldn't stop his calm and determined steps.

"Ha, the Cruciatus Curse..." He chuckled, a hint of disdain in his voice. "I learned this trick when I was five. To be honest, my mother was more powerful with this spell than you are!"

Voldemort was cornered, with nowhere to retreat. In desperation, he suddenly swung his wand, and a raging crimson flame rose into the air, instantly transforming into a menacing giant flaming serpent.

“Not bad, a very skillful Fiery Blaze…” Sagres raised an eyebrow slightly, “This is finally starting to get interesting.”

Hermione, who was not far away, also widened her eyes: "Fiendfyre!"

The other two young wizards couldn't help but ask, "Is it very powerful?"

“Of course!” Hermione replied, “Fiendfire is an extremely difficult magical flame to control. It possesses its own consciousness and is known as the fire of hell that can burn everything…”

The young wizards looked worried. But Sagrais remained calm, and he didn't even stop walking the entire time.

“Yes, Fiendfire—the fire of destruction. Coincidentally, I’ve also studied this spell quite a bit…” Sagres walked unabashedly toward the roaring fiery serpent. “Today, let’s see who will suffer the consequences in this battle of fire!”

As he spoke, he stepped into the Fiendfire unleashed by Voldemort, but the expected tragic scene did not occur.

Sargeras crossed the sea of ​​fire unharmed. The menacing crimson serpent transformed into a pale fiery bird the instant it touched him, then turned and pounced straight at Voldemort.

Voldemort hastily cast a counter-spell to defend himself, which Sargeras recognized as a sophisticated spell combining the Curse Stop, Freezing Charm, Water Spring, and a high-level Transfiguration Charm. The white fiery bird was ultimately held firmly in front of Voldemort and gradually dissipated.

"Truly worthy of being called the Dark Lord!" Sagres exclaimed without changing his expression, yet his eyes betrayed undisguised sarcasm and mockery.

"Then—the flames erupt!"

Voldemort's expression changed drastically; the slight smugness he had just displayed was instantly replaced by terror. The firebird he had painstakingly tamed, under Sargeras's spell, instantly transformed into a raging ball of flame, completely engulfing him.

"Ah~"

With a heart-wrenching scream, Quirrell's voice came from within the flames.

“Sagres…please spare my life, I was forced into this situation…” Quirrell cried and begged.

Sagres remained unmoved. He simply waved his hand, and the pale flames receded like a tide, revealing a wretched figure curled up on the ground.

"Ah, Sagrais, save me..." Quirrell cried out repeatedly, "I was never in control of myself, Voldemort controlled me, I wanted to tell you the truth, but I never found the opportunity..."

Sagres stood silently, his gaze piercing, without uttering a word.

"At first, I just wanted to learn a few powerful spells from him and then find an opportunity to report him, but who knew that Voldemort would take control of my body... When I tried to resist, I found that I was powerless... Everything I did afterward was just to make you notice the abnormality in my body, but every one of you turned a blind eye to it..."

"Sagres, help me... give me another chance, even if it's to go to Azkaban, even if it's to face the Dementors..."

laugh--

A sharp, silent cutting spell flashed across Quirrell's head like lightning, and by the time he realized what was happening, his entire face had been completely severed by the spell.

But Sagres's furrowed brows remained unfurrowed, because despite the blood gushing from the incision, Voldemort's face was still firmly stuck to Quirrell's head.

"Flesh and blood being torn apart!"

Sagrass continued to cast the spell on Quiro, which was another horrific use of the spell—forcibly separating a person's body from their soul.

"Ah~"

Quirrell let out an even more piercing scream, but this time, Voldemort, who was feigning death, could no longer escape and was forcibly ripped from the back of his head.

"You will all die!" the bloodied and mangled face suddenly spoke.

Before it fell away, it frantically devoured Quirrell's flesh and soul. Almost instantly, the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was completely consumed, leaving only a broken shell, like a scarecrow stripped of its clothes, exposed to everyone's eyes.

The Voldemort face that had fallen off suddenly contracted, as if gathering power, and then a terrifying explosion swept over us.

In an instant, dust billowed up, followed by a long silence.

A silent "whirlwind cleanse" purified all the dust. Once Sargeras saw the empty room, he slowly lowered his wand, revealing the young wizard and Quirrell behind the protective charm.

However, the latter had clearly reached the end of his life. Voldemort had almost drained him of all his magic, flesh, and soul, leaving him with nothing but a half-dead corpse, ready to breathe his last at any moment.

"Where is Voldemort? Is he dead?" Quirrell asked with his last ounce of strength.

“No, he escaped,” Sagles replied expressionlessly.

Upon hearing this, the young wizards felt a surge of familiarity, as if this scene had played out somewhere before.

Upon careful recollection, she was startled to realize that this was exactly the same conversation that Weris had with Leon the Centaur after driving Voldemort out of the Forbidden Forest.

Chapter 46 Rewards and Punishments

"I really regret it... I only wanted to learn some powerful magic from him... and then expose him, but I never imagined things would turn out like this..."

Quirrell said weakly, "Sagres, I really envy you... your superb skills, your great fame, the respect of others... any one of these is something I've been desperately pursuing but can never obtain... Ha, how envious I am..."

Quirrell's voice grew fainter and fainter until it disappeared completely.

He died just like that, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, and he lost his life completely.

"Is he a Death Eater?" Harry finally asked.

Sagres didn't turn around. As he buried Quiro with his staff, he replied, "Not really... he was just an ordinary man whose eyes were temporarily blinded by greed."

Sagras's words silenced the young wizards, but it was indeed the case.

Death Eaters are mostly members of pure-blood families. The reason they follow Voldemort is largely because Voldemort's pure-blood ideology allows them to gain greater benefits.

In today's magical society, the pie is finite, yet the rare pure-blooded individuals monopolize 80% of the social wealth. Even so, they remain unsatisfied, because long ago, the pie belonged entirely to them.